


with his educated eyes (and his head between my thighs)

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Harry in Heat, Human Louis, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Harry, Self-Lubrication, Sexual Content, Sexual Experimentation, The Pack Dislikes Harry A Bit, The Talk About Mpreg A Lot, They Talk A Lot of Shit On Him, Werewolf Harry, Werewolves, no knotting, unedited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-20 20:35:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4801406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're...we're not the same," Harry says softly, looking at his hands.<br/>"I don't care," Louis replies back, fire and fury in his eyes. </p><p>or where Harry is just a little boy in a world full of arseholes, Louis is in way over his head, and destiny is a bunch of shit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with his educated eyes (and his head between my thighs)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eternaldolphin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternaldolphin/gifts).



> Here's the original prompt: "Harry is an omega, picked on by his pack because he's submissive, unmated and not at all aggressive, even in the full moon. It all takes an interesting turn when, instead of mating with a nice alpha, Harry meets and falls in love with Louis, a human. Louis has to learn everything about Harry's wolf, including his heats and how to help him through them without a knot, and in doing so becomes Harry's alpha."
> 
> I hope I did your prompt justice! I tried my best! I also got a bit out of hand with the wolf thing because I figured that that was what you wanted. Sorry if it wasn't! 
> 
> This was crazy to write, I'll be honest. There was a lot of Googling shit about werewolves in lore and stuff. Taken from a multitude of sources, aspects of this may be different to the usual werewolf shit. 
> 
> I own nothing except, well, the written aspect of this. All mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Title from 'Coming Down' by Halsey because I fkn love her.

Harry stands amongst his peers, feeling tiny and scrutinized. His back aches with the effort to keep his posture straight, his eyes ahead, as a bead of sweat drips down the back of his neck, cold against his hot skin.

He wants nothing more than to crawl up into a ball and cry as another round of laughter choruses through the small train car the pack travels to school together in. He feels like they're laughing at him, not some ridiculously sexist joke a beta had said. 

“Look how pathetic,” someone—an alpha, probably. They’re the only people who can’t seem to let Harry sulk in his loneliness—whispers.

Harry shivers and he feels their stares on his back as the train begins to slow. He adjusts his backpack, grateful for the short ride. He can't wait to get his own car so he doesn't have to travel with them. Damn the shitty economy.

The pack whispers about him because he’s unmated and nonconfrontational. If he had an alpha and a give-'em-hell attitude, no one would fuck with him. There’d be no gossip because Harry would be claimed, he’d be protected, not only by his alpha but by his own voice.

Harry gets off the train when the doors open and rushes to the school. There, he’s safe for a while.

The danger of exposing the pack is too great for them to whisper about Harry with that many humans are around. They're completely ignorant to the wolves that hide under the skin of an eighth of the population.

“Harry!” Niall calls as Harry nears his locker.

Niall’s his best friend. He’s completely oblivious to Harry’s rank in the pack—Harry’s an omega which is the shitty end of an even shittier stick, to be honest—and the mutterings of their classmates because he is human as fuck.

“Hi, Niall,” Harry smiles. “What’s up?”

“Hastings isn’t fucking here today," he says gloriously. “I’m so happy!”

Mr. Hastings is their shared math teacher. He’s a bastard and a half who enjoys watching his students struggle through a pop quiz on something they learned three months prior.

Niall hates him. Harry doesn’t mind him because he’s the only teacher that doesn’t force him to speak in class. He also doesn’t count participation, so Harry’s grade in trig is as high as it can get.

“Who’s the sub?” Harry opens his locker and grabs his books for the day.

“Don't know, but they can’t be worse than Hastings.”

-

When Harry grabs his backpack at the end of the day, he can smell someone new.

He’s used to the vaguely acrid smell of the live humans, of their sweat and breath. He’s also accustomed to the smell of his pack, cottony and strong, like wild animals, and of Niall's, sharp and bitter, like burning wood.

This one is softer, smoother than either scent. It reminds Harry of his grandmother’s house in Holmes Chapel, of the Christmas season as a toddler, of soft tufts of snow floating in the air and his mum's soft hazelnut coffee.

Harry wants to bathe in the scent, shift and roll over in it.

He turns his head, nose raised, and watches everyone—even members of his pack—ignore the delightful scent and continue heading toward the exits.

“Holy shit,” Harry murmurs when he locates the source of the smell.

A boy with feathery hair the colour of caramel and eyes the same blue as the sky stands next to the sub for Mr. Hastings, smirking.

The boy is fucking beautiful. Harry has a difficult time distinguishing if he’s human or a wolf from his sight and smell. Usually, he, as an omega, can tell immediately, so his interest is even more piqued when he can't.

He bites his lip nervously, looking away with a blush when the boy catches his eye. It’s then that Harry realizes he’s human.

He almost simultaneously realizes that he’s fucked because Harry is just a rubberduck trying to stay afloat in an ocean full of sharks. He doesn’t need to be picked on more because he wants to fuck a human.

The boy’s eyes are still on him, though, and Harry’s still blushing and everything’s begun to tint a soft, warm rose.

Harry gives the boy a goodbye glance, green meeting sky blue, before he heads toward the train full of pack members who live to take the piss out of him.

-

“I’m home,” Harry says softly when he enters.

Because of his unmated status, he and his family—minus Gemma who mated last year—are forced to live in a dwelling a hundred yards away from everyone else so that nothing too mischievous happens during heats and ruts and full moons.

“Hi, Harry," his mother smiles at him, standing on the kitchen table to dust the ceiling fan. “Dinner’ll be ready at eight.”

Harry nods quietly and then shuffles to his room to do his homework like clockwork.

He doesn’t speak much when on pack territory. He’s too afraid of being mocked for his meek, yet deep voice, for how slow and softly he speaks, for his insufficiencies.

-

When Harry climbs into the train car the next morning, he swallows roughly around the cloudy scent of someone's rut.

It's stinks, of course, because the alpha is mated, and Harry is repulsed that someone would go out in the state. He's also uncomfortable with an omega allowing their alpha to leave when they want to bend over any omega in sight. Except Harry, of course.

He leans against the wall by the door, shoulders pulled high, held held low. He feels someone poke the arch of his neck, finger cold and sweaty, and he unconsciously jumps forward, ready to ward off any attack that might come his way.

"Hi," says the girl.

She's a beta, the most common rank in the pack, and she doesn't look like she intends harm on Harry for his unmarked neck, but he can never, ever be too safe.

"You dropped this," she passes him his mechanical pencil and then turns away, blue hair a wild mess as she shuffles through the car.

He sniffs the air for her scent and when he only finds the gross combined smell of the pack and the alphas rut, he wishes the blue-eyed boy’s scent had stuck to him. He smells better than the pack ever has.

-

The next day, Harry heads to homeroom five minutes late. Niall had had some big issue with his trig homework and had insisted Harry help him.

When he steps into the door, cheeks flushed from the glances he gets, he smells him, the boy from yesterday.

Harry’s nose is strong, but there’s something about this boy’s scent that pierces Harry’s like it belongs there, sharp and smooth and welcomed. He doesn’t look for him, though, just keeps his head bowed as he shuffles to his seat.

And, well, there’s a body in it. A curvy body that smells like heaven and looks like gold.

Harry’s eyes widen and then he looks up, glancing around the room to see that all of the seats are taken.

Damn it.

“Is this your seat?” The boy asks and his voice is high, but not squeaky like some of the other omegas’ are.

It’s just right.

Harry nods and then shrugs. He’ll just go stand by the door or something. It’s no big deal. 

“Here, dude," the boy says softly. “I’ll go over—”

Harry shakes his head fervently.

“No, I will," Harry assures quietly, afraid of one of the alphas hearing and mocking him later.

“Come on, mate,” the boy frowns. “It’s your seat.”

Harry shakes his head, determined, and smiles.

“Stay,” Harry murmurs before he turns around, nose filled with the luscious scent of a fucking human.

His left arm dangles at his side as he walks toward the door and then it’s being grasped by tiny, warm fingers. Harry jerks away unconsciously, turning around to face the boy protectively.

“We’ll just have to share then."

Harry doesn’t say no, though, and follows the boy back to the chair where they both sit down, legs pressed together nearly the entire way down.

Harry’s heart beats fast at the contact as the morning announcements begin to play over the tele.

“I’m Louis,” the boy says firmly, eyelashes so long they brush his cheeks.

Harry thought that it was a films only sort of thing, super long eyelashes, but this beautiful human— _Louis_ —has proved his theory incorrect.

“Harry,” he replies softly, voice so low he’s not sure Louis hears him.

“Nice to meet you,” Louis says as he turns back to the television, “Harold.”

-

Somehow, Harry gains a great-smelling friend. He’s not sure exactly when it becomes apparent that Louis sticks to him like glue, or when Niall realizes he’s got competition, but it’s been a month since Louis arrived, and everything’s begun to smell like him.

Harry’s clothes, his locker, his notebooks. Hell, even Niall smells just the tiniest bit like him. It’s odd, but weirdly comforting. Harry’s, once again, not sure why.

He’s at lunch one day when the lead alpha of the pack confronts him on it.

“What are you doing with that human?” She sits next to him, looking the picture of relaxed.

She runs the pack as it's head Alpha. The other Alphas bow to her, as does everyone else. 

“We’re just friends,” Harry whispers. “I’m allowed to have friends, aren’t I?”

“Of course you are," she says with a sad smile. “The pack’s just worried, is all.”

Harry glances up at her warily, eyes sharp despite the fear he feels pounding in his chest.

“Worried I’ll spill their secret and then they’ll be hunted like the feral pigs they are?” Harry asks, voice low but sharp. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

“Glad we’re on the same page," Shannon muses, rapping her knuckles against the table. “See you around.”

And then she’s gone.

Harry groans to himself and then rests his forehead against the table, humiliated.

Why is everything he does the pack’s business?

His cheeks flush when he realizes how he spoke to the head alpha. His mother’s going to be furious when she finds out.

“Hey, H," Louis says loudly as he slides onto the seat next to Harry. “Who was that?”

“She’s...a family friend.”

Harry is a terrible fucking liar. Louis doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up. It’s a big problem.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Louis asks, but his eyes are closed off.

“Shannon?” Harry lifts his head and laughs. “Fuck no. I'm too gay for that.”

“You’re gay?” Louis asks curiously, biting down softly on his bottom lip.

His smell surrounds Harry in a bubble of comfort, of honesty, so he doesn’t feel the need to lie or cringe back whenever Louis’ body touches his.

“Yeah,” Harry nods and sips at his water.

Louis just makes a content noise and then they both begin to eat their lunches quietly.

Harry wonders where Niall is, but then remembers he had a doctor’s appointment and had to leave early. A pity, really, but Harry appreciates the quiet time.

Louis interrupts the quiet with a question Harry would’ve never expected.

“H, do you think we could, like, go out some time?” His voice isn’t timid.

He isn’t afraid. Harry, though, Harry _is_.

“What? Like a date?” Harry squeaks, breathless.

He was so unprepared for this! Why hadn’t someone warned him?! He’s going to _faint_.

“Well, yeah.”

Harry can tell he feels awkward.

But Harry feels more than awkward! How is he supposed to have an interspecies relationship?! He’s a fucking _wolf_ with heats and unwanted full moon shifts and the desire to shed his skin and howl and Louis has none of those things and a wonderful scent and beautiful eyes and a human heart.

It’ll never work.

Harry looks into Louis’ eyes, lips beginning to for the word no, when another waft of Louis’ scent hits his nose and he realizes he can't. So he says yes. 

It’s too late to take it back when Louis grins like the sun and pats Harry’s hand softly.

“Friday, then? We can, like, get some burgers or something.”

“I don’t...um...eat meat?” Harry gnaws on his lip nervously, heart pounding in his ears.

A wolf that doesn’t eat meat. He likes the irony of it.

“That’s fine,” Louis says and his smile is brighter than the brightest star, burning Harry’s eyes and causing him to grin back, never quite reaching his level of brightness. “Veggie burgers, then.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Harry muses and Louis nods.

So, Harry’s got a date, then.

Cool.

-

The date goes as swimmingly as it can with a human and a wolf sitting across the booth from one another, veggie burgers and milkshakes in hand. He enjoys the date quite a bit, actually, and when Louis walks him to the train station, he asks if there’ll be a second one.

“Well, if that’s what you want,” Louis says, smiling the sunlight, crinkly-eyed smile that Harry hasn’t a chance of reciprocating.

“I want,” is all Harry can say, too starstruck by the sunshine grin to say much more.

The grin doesn’t fall off of Louis’ face and then he’s leaning in, brushing his lips softly against Harry’s temple.

“It’s a date,” Louis nods and Harry’s flushed pink as he nods, too.

“I’ll see you in homeroom?” 

“Definitely,” Louis smirks. “Can’t wait to feel your hip against mine again.”

They’ve shared the same desk since Louis’ first day, which is a bit weird, but neither of them mind at all.

The train whistles as it approaches and Harry sends Louis a small smile.

“Au revoir,” he says and means it.

Louis salutes him as he steps onto the train, smile half-melted off of his face.

Harry’s heart beats twice as fast as normal with happiness and then panic.

What’s he going to do?!

-

It’s three months into dating Louis that Harry realizes he might need to tell Louis of his species.

His heat’s in less than a week and he’s clingy as fuck. He knows why, but Louis doesn’t and he’s obviously a little put off by Harry’s whine as they separate ways for first period.

He’s kind enough not to say anything, but Harry can tell by the tiny mannerisms in his forehead that he’s confused.

Harry decides he’ll show him rather than tell him. The full moon is tonight and shifting will be mandatory. So, when school ends, he takes Louis to the forest surrounding the train station, hoping his wolf is well behaved.

“What’re we doing in the woods, H?" Louis asks, gazing up at the falling leaves.

“There’s something I’ve to show you.” Harry says with a sigh. “It’s...I’m...We’re different, Louis. So vastly different that you’ll probably hate me for it, but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

Harry will be cast out and then probably killed by a human hunter out for werewolf blood if Louis tells even a soul. The town has a bad past with wolves, more specifically of the were-kind.

“Harry, are you okay?” Louis frowns, steps forward to press the back of his hand against Harry’s forehead.

“I’m fine."

He can feel the shift in his bones, burning and grating under his skin like sharp metal. He always shifts a few days prior to his heat to reduce some surface tension. It tends to lessen his heat, so he’s always stuck with the regimen. But it just so happens that the full moon falls only a few days prior to his heat, so the shift is mandatory, a bodily necessity.

“Promise me that no matter what you see, you’ll keep it between us.”

Harry looks at him sincerely.

“I promise."

“Even if you’re terrified or disgusted or filled with hate, you must keep it a secret or I will _die_.”

Harry can’t stress this enough. He’s opening himself up, the most vulnerable pieces, and he hopes Louis won’t detest him for it.

Louis look stricken for a moment, frozen, before he reaches out his pinky, waiting for Harry to link it with his. When Harry does, skin sticky with perspiration, Louis smiles the sunshine smile.

Harry doesn’t smile back.

He begins to remove his shirt and pants and shoes, skim hot and itchy as if he was a snake.

“Not that I don’t totally want to see your rockin’ bod,” Louis says with wide, entranced eyes, “'cause I do, but what are you doing?”

 _Shifting,_ Harry thinks to himself as he yanks his socks off his feet.

“Just...watch.” Harry chokes out, feeling the skin of his body ache, burn, shred.

He arches his back, groaning, and it hurts worse than anyone could ever imagine. His fingers elongate, his nails fall to the ground, fur bursts out from inside of his chest, ripping pink skin from his body. His human skin falls to the ground in a pile as he lands on all fours, a howl pouring from his chest. Harry shakes his fur, golden brown, and blood splatters everywhere.

He turns to Louis, white-tipped ears balanced low on his head, and sits back on his haunches, watching.

Louis just stares, face blank, mouth open. His arms remain stiff by his side, fingers clenched into tiny, tiny fists.

Harry would muse about how cute he looks if it wasn’t for the fact that he no longer knows english.

“Harry?” Louis asks softly. “Are you a wolf?”

Harry lets his ears perk up, wagging his tail delightedly when Louis takes a step forward. Louis’ fists uncurl and he lets his fingers brush Harry’s snout, fear and awe in his eyes.

“My boyfriend’s a wolf,” he murmurs. “Who’d have fucking thought?”

Harry turns his head and nudges Louis’ wrist with his nose. God, he smells even better like this, nose pressed up right against his veins, his skin.

Harry will never get over how fucking good he smells.

Louis coos, eyes lit with his sunshine smile, and he kneels to bury his face in Harry’s fur.

“You smell so clean,” Louis muses. “Would’ve thought you’d smell like blood or dirt or something.”

Harry flicks him with his tail and then curls around him, begging for his hold.

So Harry’s a needy little shit. He doesn’t care. He’s just happy Louis didn’t run away like a boy crying wolf.

“When will you be back?” Louis asks, running his fingers through Harry’s fur.

Harry can’t respond, obviously, so Louis sighs.

“Full moon? Is that tonight?” Harry can only shift his head up and down from its spot on Louis’ lap. “So you’ll be back when it’s over?”

Harry shifts his head up and down again. He realizes just how big of a wolf he is when Louis hand settles next to his paw and the size difference is palpable.

He’s sort of awed.

“You’re a big puppy,” Louis whispers. “A cute big puppy. Like a golden retriever.”

Harry growls playfully, nudging Louis’ belly.

He is _not_ a dog.

-

When Harry wakes up from his shift, he’s naked in the forest beside the train station. The moon is high in the sky, a waning gibbous, and Harry is freezing.

He sits up groggily, skin itchy from his oncoming heat, and takes a deep breath of cool air. He checks all of his limbs for damage—it’s something he was trained to do—and then stands. He’s fucking exhausted, but he manages to walk over to the tree where he’d had Louis store his clothes—he’d nosed at them for ten minutes until Louis realized what he meant—and gets dressed in them.

He feels dirty and grimy, skin caked with the salty, dried-up residue of his sweat and his heat. He doesn’t take it for granted, though, because it could be worse.

It could be come. Harry hates cleaning up his caked on come after his heat. It’s a disaster and he’s all achy and he just detests it.

He’s glad he’s got a few days until that happens.

Harry sticks his feet into his shoes and glances up at the sky, wondering how the fuck he’s going to get home. The train’s stopped for the night. Harry can tell by the position of the moon in the sky that it’s past the operating hours.

He groans and begins to walk to the benches. When he finds them, he’s glad it’s only October because the air’s not quite chilly yet. He can sleep in just his clothes on a public bench. He can.

-

He can’t.

Harry stares up at the sky all night, shivering despite his fever. His heat might be coming earlier than he expected. Fuck his life.

He searches his pockets for money as the sun begins to peak over the mountains, finding two quarters. He can call someone!

He scrambles to the payphone, skin damp with internalized fire, and puts the money in, dialing the only number his heat fogged mind can remember.

“Hello?” Someone answers after five beeps, voice thick with sleep.

His voice sends a shiver through Harry. Even if he’s not an alpha, he’s still Harry’s something.

“Louis?” Harry whispers and his voice shakes pathetically.

“Harry? Oh my God, are you _okay?”_ Louis asks and he sounds awake, coherent. “It’s been three days!”

“I’m fine,” Harry says back, soft. “But I can’t get home...and it’s cold.”

“I’m coming to get you,” Louis says after half a second. “You’re at the train station, yes?”

Harry makes a sound of approval, feeling needy and clingy and cold and hot.

“There’s something else I have to tell you,” Harry bites his lip. “Every three months, I go through...this portion of time where I have to be...I _need_ to be...fucked. We call it a heat and it’s...not something that I can shift my way out of. Usually, an omega...like me...has an alpha to help them through it…”

“But you don’t have an alpha,” Louis replies softly, finishing Harry’s sentence.

Harry hears the roar of his car engine and then the low beats of The Script playing as he drives.

“I either have to go home,” Harry distinctly wants the exact opposite of that, “or...somewhere else where someone can take care of me.”

“‘Take care of’?” Louis questions and he sounds as breathless as Harry feels.

“Insert dick into.” Harry replies and he realizes how hard he is in his pants. “Whatever.”

“And, do you want me to…?” Louis asks and Harry bites his lip so hard that he whimpers.

“Please,” Harry begs.

“Thank fuck my mom took the girls to see their dad,” Louis responds.

Harry pants into the phone and hears the warning saying that he has only a few seconds left.

“I’m out of time,” Harry whispers.

“I’ll see you in a bit.” 

Harry can imagine the alpha timbre tainting the words. The thought makes him begin to secrete slick. It permeates the air, sharp and sweet, and Harry knows this is his heat. It burns inside of him, aching to be fucked, to be knotted, to be let out.

Harry nods with vigour and the phone beeps out. Harry looks at it pitifully and then gently places the phone back on the receiver. He takes a few steps back to the bench and weeps.

-

It doesn’t take Louis more than ten minutes to complete the drive, but by the time he’s pulled up, Harry’s a mess.

He’s curled into a ball on the bench, shivering and whimpering and sobbing, dick hard in his pants.

Louis feels sick to his stomach when he rushes to Harry’s side, scooping him into his arm gloriously.

“Shh, love,” Louis whispers. “I’ve got you. Let’s get you home, okay?”

“Please,” Harry whimpers and he noses into Louis’ neck gently, nose icy cold against Louis’ skin. “Hurry.”

-

Louis pulls up in front of his house, cheeks red from the extreme heat in the car. Harry’s draped half over him, hands pulling religiously at the edge of his shirt.

“Let’s go inside,” Louis says and resists his own aching cock to separate Harry from himself.

He turns the car off and jumps out, rounding the car in just a few seconds.

There’s something about Harry right now that makes his dick ache harder than ever before. Sure, Harry’s always been entrancing. He’s so fucking smart and so sweet and so gentle, not to mention the kid’s gorgeous as hell.

It must have something to do with Harry’s weird heat thing. Louis opens Harry’s door quickly, helping him up and out of the seat.

Immediately, Harry’s hands curls around his bum, lips pressing helplessly to his lips.

And who is Louis not to respond?

Louis kisses his back with fervour, hands shaking in the bitter air as they stumble toward the front door. Louis had left it unlocked, luckily, so all he has to do is slam his hip into it and it’s creaking open.

Louis’ lips are cold with spit when Harry detaches long enough to shimmy out of his shirt and then drag Louis’ forcefully over his head.

“Fuck me,” Harry whispers pleadingly. “Please.”

Louis nods quickly, leaning up to press his lips to Harry’s again. God, the height difference turns him on. He presses his fingertips to Harry’s ribcage, tracing along with edges of his ribs delicately.

“You’re so beautiful,” Louis whispers.

“Please,” is all Harry says, leaning forward so his cock rubs against Louis’ hip impatiently.

Louis nods and begins to unbuckle Harry’s jeans, tugging them down his legs in only a few seconds which should be a fucking record.

Harry’s pants are _impossibly_ tight.

“Louis, please,” Harry begs, still rutting helplessly against Louis’ thigh, faster and less coordinated now.

“Yes, okay, yeah. My bed, then?”

Harry moans and nods feverishly. Louis is sort of overwhelmed.

Louis grabs him by the hands and leads him to his bedroom, closing the door behind them. Harry pushes him down onto the bed, fingers gentle despite the urgency in his voice and in his eyes. Louis bites his lip hesitantly.

“Are you sure?” Louis asks, eyeing Harry’s pinned eyes.

“Absolutely,” Harry assures and he sounds coherent, but Louis asks again.

Just to be safe.

“Are you sure that you’re sure?” Louis holds Harry at shoulders distance.

Any closer and Louis wouldn’t be able to help himself. Harry just smells so fucking good.

“Yes,” Harry nods and then he reaches down between Louis’ thighs to cup his cock with his hands.

Louis helplessly bucks into it, head fuzzy.

“Fuck me,” Harry purrs into his ear. “Now.”

“Do I, like, need anything?” Louis asks.

He’s never had literal sex with anyone, as pathetic as it sounds. He talks the talk, but he’s only seen it done in porn.

“No, no, no,” Harry chants. “I’m good.”

“Some fingers maybe?” Louis winces at the thought of Harry’s bum having to adjust abruptly to his cock.

He doesn’t want to hurt Harry.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Harry’s speaking so fast that his voice doesn’t even sound like his.

Louis shakes his head and leans up to kiss Harry, fingers trailing past his hard cock to his bum. He squeezes it gently, tongue entering Harry’s mouth expertly. He presses one finger to Harry’s entrance and is startled by how fucking wet it is.

He’s sure that’s supposed to happen, but he’s a bit too caught up in the whole idea of having his cock inside of Harry’s wet arsehole to care.

“Baby,” Louis coos as he slides his finger inside Harry’s hole carefully, “is it a wolf thing?”

“The...the self lubrication?” Harry murmurs, hands stroking down Louis’ body, fingers scraping gently at the back of his neck.

“Yes,” Louis mumbles back, curving his fingers to stretch Harry out as he adds a second and then a third. “God, you’re so _tight_.”

Harry just moans in response, fingers tightening in Louis’ hair.

“I’m good,” he insists. “Please. I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” Louis asks again.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Harry whispers back, words harsh as he bites a mark into Louis’ neck.

Louis winces and then moans when Harry’s tongue soothes it, grinding his hips down onto Louis’.

Louis moans out involuntarily, blinded by the pure need he feels as Harry does it again.

“Please,” Harry says and his lips begin to shake as Louis pulls his fingers out. “I need you. Please.”

“Harry, love, calm down,” Louis whispers, pressing a soft, fluttering kiss to his shoulder. “I...I’m gonna fuck you now, okay? Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Harry whispers, nodding, “please, please, please.”

Louis doesn’t understand what’s making Harry so...desperate for a cock—or _his_ cock, maybe—but he won’t let Harry suffer.

He bites his own mark into the crook of Harry’s neck, lapping at it with his tongue before he flips Harry over. Harry hooks his beautiful legs around Louis’ waist, dragging him in so his cock messily touches his bum. Louis sighs breathily when it does, scrambling to find purchase on the small bed.

He needs a bigger fucking bed so he can fuck Harry better.

“Louis,” Harry moans, “I need your cock, please.”

Louis presses his lips to Harry’s in a messy, open mouthed kiss and then begins to slide his cock into Harry’s strangely wet hole. The pressure is immediate and so fucking good that Louis pants heavily into Harry’s shoulder, sweat dripping from his hairline down his forehead.

It’s not a minute or even more than a few seconds before Harry’s begging him to move, to pull out and then push in, to ‘knot’ him and ‘make him his’.

Louis wishes Harry had informed him more about the whole wolf and heat thing, but whatever.

Louis does as Harry begs, as he’s asked, and pulls out and slams back in, knees holding himself up in between Harry’s thighs. His cock aches with appreciation and Louis’ thrusts pick up speed after a moment, finding a solid enough rhythm for Louis to reach up and stroke Harry’s cock.

Harry curls into the touch, head tossed back as he moans pornographically, nails digging red marks into Louis’ back. Louis can’t wait to see them when he showers, when he gets dressed.

He’s lost his fucking mind, but it’s understandable. He, after all, has his cock inches deep into the beautiful, stunning, intelligent Harry Styles’ arse.

Harry constricts around him, moaning until he’s coming over Louis’ fingers, back arching so far off of the bed that Louis is impressed until he feels Harry’s nails dig harder into his skin.

Louis begins to pull out, afraid of overstimulating Harry, but Harry stops him.

“I’m fine. Keep going,” he pants. “ _Please_.”

Louis looks down and is _not_ weirded out by Harry’s still hard cock. He’s actually sort of enamoured by it.

Louis cock slides fluidly in and out of Harry, slow and agonizing and fucking brilliant. Harry’s tight around him as he slides out and then slams back in.

Louis hides his moans in the crook of Harry’s neck.

“I’m gonna come,” he says. “In or out?”

“In, in, in, in," Harry repeats like a mantra, hands holding Louis in place by his hips.

Louis nods quickly and thrusts three, four more times before he’s coming inside Harry, quick and fast and wonderfully so.

Louis thrusts through it, collapsing on top of Harry once he’s spent and the glorious feeling from his orgasm has begun to fade. He lifts himself up again, weakly, and kisses Harry’s lips.

“I’m gonna suck you off, if that’s okay?” Louis sits up, feeling Harry’s cock still pressing into his stomach.

Louis may be exhausted, but Harry comes first, like always.

Harry nods weakly, looking spent, and smiles faintly.

“Please,” he whispers and then Louis wraps his mouth around the head of Harry’s cock.

Louis is sure he’s probably terrible at this, but at least he knows enough to make sure his teeth don’t grate against the sensitive skin of Harry’s cock. He swirls his head around the head of Harry’s dick, hand working the portion of Harry’s—very large—cock that his mouth doesn’t reach.

Harry’s fingers curl in his hair, tugging, and he moans so loud that the neighbours can probably hear.

If Louis hadn’t just come, his cock would be fucking aching. Loud Harry turns him on more than anything else.

“Come on, baby,” Louis pulls off of Harry’s dick to praise him. “Come for me. You’ve been so, so good.”

Louis looks down at Harry’s cock, slick with saliva, and is surprised by its beauty.

It’s a pretty cock. He’ll give him that.

“Lou,” Harry whimpers, “I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” Louis whispers, taking all of Harry back into his mouth.

He only reaches so far before he has to breathe through his nose to get oxygen in. He strokes the space he can’t reach and bobs his head, tongue tucked underneath his length.

It’s not three minutes before Harry’s coming into Louis’ mouth, fingers tugging hard on his hair.

Louis swallows it effortlessly and crawls into bed beside Harry, hugging him tightly to his chest.

“Such a good boy,” Louis whispers.

“Was I?” Harry looks up, eyes bleary, skin hot.

He’s still fucking beautiful. Louis is awed.

“Absolutely, love,” Louis assures and he means it.

Harry is the best in the world.

-

Louis waits until he’s sure Harry’s asleep before he creeps downstairs and grabs his phone.

The sun is high in the sky by then, early afternoon, and Louis blinks against it. He’s too tired for this shit.

He makes some PB&J sandwiches and cuts them into triangles before hurrying back to the room with the food and some water. He figures Harry’s going to be thirsty as fuck when he wakes up. He came, like, four fucking times and nearly cried over Louis' apparent lack of a 'knot'

He places the glass down onto the table and flops down beside Harry again.

Harry’s skin is still burning and his cock is half hard against the body and Louis is exhausted and confused and not a fucking wolf.

So, he does as anyone in his situation would do. He uses his one and only resource for all things weird.

Google.

He enters in keywords he’s heard Harry mutter like ‘heat’ and ‘knot’ and ‘wolf’ before he presses the Enter key.

The first entry is from the [Supernatural Wiki.](http://www.supernaturalwiki.com/index.php?title=Knotting)

It explains, not in the best detail, where it comes from. Supposedly, it’s a story. A [J2](http://cfamiliaris.livejournal.com/12861.html) beastiality fic that grew in popularity.

Only Louis knows how real it is.

He clicks on another link that brings him to a [Tumblr post.](http://theomegaverse.tumblr.com/Rundown) It’s apparently ‘fandom af’, as Lottie would say, and he recognizes the gif of Donna and the Doctor as its header image.

He scrolls down, reading through the article carefully.

This one is more informative. It describes in much better detail the ins and outs of heats, ruts, and knots. Louis learns all about them.

He also learns that Harry’s an omega, the usually more submissive person in the alpha/omega bond, from a website called [Archive of Our Own.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/403644/chapters/665489) He gets that Harry needs someone to care for him, someone to love him, like an alpha. Someone to mate him and impregnate him(???????) and someone to bite into his neck as a mark.

And Louis accepts almost all of it. He rationalizes it, cataloguing into his brain like directions. The only thing he doesn’t quite understand is why Harry chose him.

Louis is, as best as he can tell, human as fuck. There’s nothing that could fix that—some theorize a bite from an alpha, but Louis isn’t willing to try that yet, if at all—, so why has Harry chosen him to fuck him through his heat? To love him unconditionally even though they’re in an interspecies relationship and the pack is more than likely going to be furious?

It doesn’t make sense. _Not_ that Louis is complaining.

He looks more into the whole ‘Harry can carry babies’ thing, fascinated.

Omegas are born—or turned—fertile, though not all of them can give birth to ‘pups’, as their called on the fourth link he clicks. It’s all a bit much.

Though overwhelmed, Louis doesn’t stop. He keep scrolling, Googling, reading. He’s become obsessed with knowing it all. Hell, he even reads the J2 fic to help himself understand the concepts better.

He’s a little turned on by the end, even though he has no fucking idea what J2 is—something to do with Supernatural, probably. Louis knows that Jensen Ackles is an actor from that, but only because he has a nice, round arse— and that alone weirds him out. He clears his history and places his phone onto the bedside table. He glances down at Harry’s innocent face and wonders how many heats he’s had alone, how many times he’s had his own fingers tucked up inside him as he tried desperately to survive it.

Louis groans and buries his head in his hands. What has he gotten himself into?!

Instead of running away or something crazy—the websites warn against that heavily. Something about the heat making the omega much more emotional and clingier...not that Louis would want to leave even if he could—, he turns and presses his lips into the space behind Harry’s ear.

“Love,” he whispers, voice rumbly. “Get up. I’ve made you some food.”

Harry groans and sits up, eyes bleary, cock hard.

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbles as he stares at Louis’ lips with dark eyes. “Just horny.”

And who is Louis to not kiss him?

He asks first, of course, and waits for Harry’s rapid nod to do so.

What is he going to do?

-

Heats, Louis had read, can last from upwards of a few hours to a maximum of three days.

Harry’s lasts a day and a half. Louis is so fucking exhausted by the end of it and his neck is coated in marks, lips swollen and achy.

He feels fantastic, though, covered in reminders of Harry. He’ll have to wear a shirt with a low neckline to show the motherfucking hickies off. Damn.

“Harry,” Louis whispers. “Can I ask you something?”

Harry just hums, eyes half open as he stares up at Louis trustingly.

“Can a human impregnate an omega?” Louis asks the real questions.

“I...haven’t an idea.” Harry shakes his head.

Louis notes that his fever’s gone and his skin is mostly dry. He’s sticky with come and sweat, of course, but he’s still beautiful.

“I guess we’ll find out,” Louis furrows his brow.

“I could...take the pill,” Harry supplies but he looks strained, as if the words physically harm him as the flow from his tongue into the air like knives.

“Not unless you want to,” Louis shakes his head. “The decision is yours.”

“Really?” Harry whispers, eyes so hopeful that it literally hurts.

Louis knows it isn’t his choice. It’s Harry’s reproductive organs, his body, his arse. Harry can do as he pleases because it is not Louis’ body that’s going to be enlarged by an eight pound baby and then ripped apart by it.

“Of course, love,” Louis coos and presses a kiss to Harry’s forehead.

“Thank you,” Harry says, small smile on his face as he nuzzles into Louis’ side.

Louis just smiles back in return.

-

Harry is upset.

He’s upset because his heat had been his first time with Louis. Sure, it had been great, but he’d been clingy and whiney and needy and he hadn't taken his time to enjoy it fully.

He wants a do over.

He organizes a rendezvous several months later. It’s nothing too extravagant, just a walk through the pack territory’s garden, but it’s big.

Only mates do the garden walkthrough. It’s tradition.

Harry’s going to ask Louis to mark him.

Harry meets Louis at his house with a smile and a lingering kiss, butterflies fluttering inside his chest as sweat pools at the base of his spine.

“Are you ready to go?” Louis asks and he looks so beautiful and Harry is so terrified that he’ll say no.

That he’ll turn Harry down and leave forever.

“Absolutely,” Harry says. “Let’s go.”

They walk instead of driving to the trainstop, hands wrapped around the other’s like they’re corded with rope, and soak in the silence. It’s a nice silence because it’s just them—Harry and Louis, two boys in love though neither of them have said it yet— and Harry loves it.

They take the train to Harry’s home and Louis tells him a story about his old house far away. He tells Harry a story of his sisters and his mother and many father figures. Harry soaks it all in, laughing when Louis is sassy or funny, feeling nervousness and anxiety creep into his chest alongside the fluttering butterflies.

Harry pauses right outside the gate that leads to the garden and turns to Louis, lips pressed tightly together.

“In my pack,” he begins nervously, “it’s customary for a set of mates to walk through _[Le Jardin des Cœurs](http://www.supadu.com/images/working2/s728288/1.jpg) _ together as one of the final steps of mating.”

Louis nods softly, blue eyes a mix with green as the sun begins its slow creep down the sky. The orange red light accentuates the undertones of red in his hair, the deep copper and gold. God, Harry loves him.

“I...I want you to be my mate, Louis,” he looks down at his toes, gnawing roughly on the inside of his cheek. “That is, if you want to.”

Harry wrings his hands together nervously, shoving the toe of his shoe into the earth. The cold air whips around them, sending Harry’s unsculpted hair into his face.

“Of course I do!” Louis exclaims with a crinkly-eyed grin that’s so bright, so brilliant, that the only thing Harry can compare it to is the sun. “H, I love you. You know that, right?”

Harry’s heart fucking soars.

“Of course,” Harry says with an awkward laugh. “Yeah, I knew that. Psh. I love you, too, for the record.”

It’s mutual, everything’s mutual. Harry is so relieved that they’ve finally discussed it. He’s so fucking happy.

“Good, then. Let’s take a walk in _The Garden of Hearts._ ”

Louis offers Harry his elbow and Harry takes it with a bashful grin. Louis pushes open the gate and enters.

Harry’s never stepped foot into it. It’d been forbidden by all of the elderly pack members. His mother had explained why and then Harry got it, even as young as he was.

The flowers increase fertility. If Harry smells them or even breathes in their pollen, he’ll have twice the chance of impregnation. Which he should probably tell Louis about. Eventually.

The garden is even more beautiful than Harry could’ve ever imagined. The shrubbery and plants go from floor to ceiling, curling around one another like ivy. The flowers sparkle pale yellow in the iridescent light from the lanterns, making the angles of Louis’ already sharp facial features sharper. Harry could drink from his cheekbones probably.

“God,” Louis whispers. “This is beautiful.”

“There’s something I should tell you,” Harry admits and he can smell Louis’ fantastic scent over all of the flowers and fruit and natural elements.

He’s still the best thing Harry’s ever smelt.

“Go on, then, love,” Louis smiles and reaches out to brush the back of his hand against a row of Aconitum.

“Not those!” Harry cries out, pulling Louis’ hand away.

Aconitum—also known as Wolfsbane—is toxic to humans. Extremely so.

“Pretty and dangerous,” Louis murmurs with wide eyes. “Sorta like me, right?”

Harry rolls his eyes fondly and laughs. Louis is an idiot.

“This garden is reserved for mating pairs that haven’t officiated the process yet," Harry says and plucks a handful of wintergreen berries to pass some to Louis.

Harry loves horticulture. It’s his true calling.

“So, if they haven’t bonded, they come here?” Louis asks, shoveling the berries into his mouth with a wide grin.

“Exactly. They complete the process surrounded by these plants the pack has cultivated and crossed with others over hundreds of years. These flowers are called Macas. They increase fertility in omegas.”

“So if we have sex next to these McDonald’s flowers, you’ll for sure get pregnant?” Louis asks with raised eyebrows.

Harry hopes that his hope isn’t too visible on his face.

“Yes,” Harry nods. “Well, not for sure, but the chances are heightened.”

“That’s brilliant, H!” Louis grins. “You want to have my babies?”

“Pups,” Harry corrects, a force of habit, “and if I can, I’d love to.”

He hopes science doesn’t fail him. He hopes he’s fertile enough to have his own little babies with Louis. He hopes biology is on his side for once.

“Why?” Louis asks after a beat. “I’m just…”

“You’re my alpha, Lou,” Harry says sincerely. “No one will ever love me the way you do and I will never love anyone the way I love you. You aren’t _close_ to being it. You are my alpha.”

“Harry,” Louis blinks and his eyes look damp, “thank you.”

“No,” Harry shakes his head, “thank you. Now kiss me, you fool.”

Harry leans down when Louis leans up and presses his lips to Louis, fingers tangling softly in the hair at the nape of his neck. Louis curls his tiny hands around Harry’s waist, fingers brushing the bare skin underneath the edge of his shirt.

“Mate me,” Harry whispers as Louis turns to kiss down his neck. “Mark me and then fuck me.”

Louis nods against Harry’s throat, kissing a dark mark into the underside of his chin.

“Gonna knock you up,” Louis whispers harshly, gently tugging Harry’s shirt up and over his head.

The air in the garden is warm, heated by the greenhouse’s internal life system, so the December air doesn’t make him shiver when his chest is bare. He feels golden, like this is his time to shine, to live, to mate, to love.

And god, does he ever.

He presses his lips back to Louis’ after helping him remove his shirt, fingers hot on the skin of Louis’ back.

Louis looks so beautiful like this, lips wet and dark, throat bared as Harry bites another mark into the skin. His fingers caress Harry’s sides, sliding across the cool skin delicately as if remembering something.

Harry pulls Louis closer, harder, and grinds his hips into Louis’, drawing a soft, whispery moan from his lips. Harry pants against Louis’ lips, reaching down between their bodies to yank harshly at Louis’ trousers.

He’s impatient and his dick is aching and all he wants and needs is _LouisLouisLouis_.

Louis gives him that.

“Harry,” Louis whispers, pulling away just enough to pull his skinnies off his legs, “take yours off.”

Harry obeys like a good omega, practically ripping his jeans from his legs and his pants, too. He’s left bare in front of Louis in _The Garden of Hearts,_ pulse fluttering so fast beneath his skin that he can hear each individual beat of it. Louis stands back up, naked, too.

And, God, he’s beautiful. Harry’s never seen someone so fucking perfect.

Louis’ fingers ghost across Harry’s arms, barely touching him.

“Don’t move,” Louis says softly.

It’s not a command. Harry could move and Louis wouldn’t stop him. He just stays still because it’s what he wants to do.

He _wants_ to be good.

“So beautiful,” Louis whispers. “I didn’t get to tell you properly last time, but you are. So beautiful and so good.”

Harry preens at the comment, breathing shallow and fast as Louis leans down, capturing one of Harry’s nipples in his mouth.

Harry’s breathing picks up, pulse still so, so, so loud in his ears, and moans as Louis teases his nipple like he’s a professional. Harry knows it isn’t true, but it still makes him spike with jealousy.

“Please,” Harry begs when Louis moves on to the other one, looking up at Harry with innocent eyes and long, dark eyelashes as Harry curls into his touch, moans falling from his lips like air.

Louis pulls off, lips dark red and slick with saliva as Harry feels his own slick—a _very_ different type—slide down the back of his legs. Having a self-lubricating arse is one of Harry’s least favourite things about being an omega.

Or, well, it is until Louis pulls him to the ground, soft grass under their combined bodies and lifts his body so his chest is pressed against the soft ground. His heart’s still fluttering, pulse still thrumming, and he feels so exposed that he _loves_ it.

Louis grasps Harry’s hips, lifting them up so Harry’s on his knees, and presses a brush of a kiss into the skin of his lower back. His hands snake around to cup Harry’s bum, fingers tiny and sure, firm and smooth.

Harry knows what’s going to happen next, expects it, really, but the surprise is still there, the pleasure is still so much better than he ever thought it’d be, when Louis presses his mouth against Harry’s hole. Louis laps warily at the slick, unfamiliar with it, and then moans into Harry’s skin.

Harry shivers, hands fumbling to hold him up as they slip through the silky grass.

“Baby,” Louis whispers and Harry feels it reverberate through his body, “you taste so fucking _good_.”

Harry can’t say anything, can’t do anything, can’t breathe, so he just lets his forehead rest against the cool earth as Louis presses his tongue to Harry’s entrance, so sure in the movement that Harry’s hips buck immediately backwards.

Louis takes it like a champ, tongue inside of Harry as he begins to insert a finger.

Harry feels the uncomfort like a breeze of cold air, sharp but not lasting. It goes away once Louis begins to stretch him out, finger and tongue lapping and twisting and curling so brilliantly inside of Harry that he sees stars as he moans.

If Louis keeps this up, he’s going to come and soon.

“I’m gonna— “” Harry whispers, unable to do much more than push back against Louis, chasing the inevitable orgasm.   
“No,” Louis whispers, pulling away.

Harry gains some of his energy back, so he peeks at Louis’ face, damp with his slick, and frowns.

“Not yet, please,” Louis shakes his head and Harry just...Harry loves him so fucking much it burns inside of his chest, blazes the butterflies and makes his blood burn deliciously, passionately.

“Fuck me,” Harry whispers, turning over so he can kiss Louis properly, pressing his teeth into Louis’ bottom lip and pulling softly. “Please, Louis.”

Harry can taste himself on Louis’ tongue, the bitter and sweet tang of his slick, and it is strangely satisfying.

Louis nods mutedly, licking his lips before kissing Harry again, fervent. Harry kisses him back just as urgently, hands traveling low across his body to settle against the soft curve of his hips.

“Do you need more prep?” Louis asks breathily,exhales warm on Harry’s face.

Harry shakes his head. He’s made for this.

“Hurry,” is all Harry says and Louis nods, kissing Harry again before he leans over him, lips still touching, and helps Harry hook his legs around his waist.

Louis reaches down and begins to sink in, cock stretching Harry open. He pauses once fully in and Harry feels full to the brim in the best way possible. Louis pauses like that, arms holding himself above Harry in a show of beautiful power, face pinched in bliss.

“You look so pretty,” Louis whispers before he pulls out and then slams back in.

The glamour, the passion, of fucking in _The Jardin Des Cœurs_ isn’t over exaggerated. Harry is in complete heaven. His body thrums with Louis’ thrusts, timed and aimed perfectly to hit Harry’s prostate repeatedly, his mind focused and sharp because of the flowers' pollen.

“Such a good boy,” Louis murmurs and his lips are open against Harry’s as he pants the words into the dry abyss of Harry’s mouth.

Harry moans so loud he’s sure the pack hears from the packhouses, but he doesn’t care. He wants everyone to know that he is Louis’ and Louis is his.

“Bite me,” Harry manages to say between blissed out moans. “Mark me. Please.”

“Are you sure?” Louis frowns.

Lou's done his research. He knows how permanent Marks are, what they mean to the pack, to the wolf.

“Abso-fucking-lutely.” Harry replies, baring his neck.

Louis grins down at him, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, and he’s so fucking beautiful that Harry doesn’t understand how he got so goddamn lucky.

“I love you,” Harry whispers as Louis’ thrusts get sloppier, mistimed.

It sends Harry’s body into a tizzy, goosebumps raising on the skin of his arms, toes curling, fingers scraping the skin of Louis’ back. Harry’s going to come. He’s going to come and he’s going to be mated for real and he’s in love with Louis and the world is spinning so fast Harry can’t see, can’t breathe, can’t think of anything but _LouisLouisLouis_ as he comes with a shout and a moan, back arching off of the soft earth as he comes the hardest he’s ever came, lights flashing behind his eyes in a spectacular show of fireworks, body muted with his orgasm.

Louis fucks him through it, body melded with his as he thrusts only a few more times and then he’s coming inside Harry, mouth fitted tight against the crook of his neck, teeth piercing the skin and causing Harry to come again, untouched, sensitive.

Harry’s eyes roll into the back of his head, legs shaking with the surprise of it, and when he opens his eyes, the world looks different, feels different.

“Hi, baby,” Louis whispers, still balanced on top of Harry, arms having long given out.

Harry is exhausted, covered in come and sweat and slick and saliva, but he smell like Louis, all smooth and sweet like hazelnut coffee. All thanks to the bite mark in his neck and the come in his arse.

“Hi,” Harry replies weakly with a giggle. “I love you.”

Louis grins when he responds, eyes alight with happiness and giddiness, crinkled at the sides like the feet of a bird, “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it was worth the read!


End file.
